


In Between Nothing And Everything

by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat



Series: Mal Yoo Character Studies [1]
Category: Lumberjanes
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pre-Canon, Rain, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat
Summary: Mal Yoo stands on the street corner, under a scrawny city tree, waiting for the taxi cab that she called an hour ago, hoping it will actually come.(A short piece about Mal's train of thought before she gets in the cab to go to camp)
Relationships: Mal Yoo & Charlie Yoo
Series: Mal Yoo Character Studies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179131
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	In Between Nothing And Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wanted to write a Mal fic because I love Mal and I don't write enough for her. I based the city she lives in vaguely off of the city I live in because projection and also it's the city I know best. This is very short, but I hope you enjoy it!

Mal Yoo stands on the street corner, under a scrawny city tree, waiting for the taxi cab that she called an hour ago, hoping it will actually come. 

She stands with a bag between her feet, shoved there in the hopes that it will dissuade theft, that she can see it better, might feel it if someone tries to grab it. Her guitar’s in a case on her back (she didn’t bring her base - only had room for one instrument, per her mom’s request, and besides, girls like guitarists more) slung over her shoulders, so light she can barely feel it, covered in patches she sewed on herself, needle and thread and thread and needle, sitting in the main room in their apartment with her mom while T.V. droned on in the background, some movie musical from the 60’s still in black and white, a man dancing and singing in the rain. Mal doesn’t get where he was coming from - the rain’s not awful, sure, but it’s not great, either. Either way, not really something to be so cheerful about. Then again, maybe she’d missed something, curled up on the floral sofa with her mom, only half-listening to the man on the television’s song. Maybe he had reason. Mal smiles to herself, shakes her head. The rain drips down from the tree’s leaves, drizzling onto her shoulders. The summer rain is warm, but she still wishes she’d brought a jacket.

There’s a takeout menu in Mal’s hands, some new fusion restaurant that moved into the building across from her mom’s work. She doesn’t remember what it was fusing - they get all sorts, where she lives, from the longer lived (various, and plentiful) Chai Thai fusions to that one very, very, short-lived German Mexican Japanese And Probably One Other Cuisine Too restaurant that only lasted a few weeks (sauerkraut tacos?? _What_ were they thinking??). Mal turns the takeout menu over in her hands, photocopied dishes on cheap yellow printer paper unimportant in her eyes. She’s not looking for something to eat; she’s looking at the address she wrote on the back, the one she’ll give the taxi driver (if he ever comes). The address to some camp for girls in the middle of nowhere, Miss Penny-something-something-something Crumpet’s Camp for Hard Core Lady Types (a name that seems to contrast very much so with the camp’s description, but hey, she doesn't mind). 

She doesn’t feel bad switching the forms on her mom. Well, she kinda does. A little. But not as bad as she _thinks_ she should feel, and maybe it’s because she was just that tired of music camp, or maybe it’s because she’s starting to realize that her mom probably knew what she’d done. That her mom let her, because her mom loves her, and her mom decided that Mal’s old enough to know what’s best for her. Mal reaches into her pocket, feeling at the cash her mom gave her for the cab ride. It’s just enough for this trip. Music camp’s closer. The drive wouldn’t cost this much. She looks at the takeout menu again, at the address she wrote on the back. She wonders if her mom knew. 

She hears the sound of a car horn blaring. She looks up. 

The taxi’s here, yellow and checked, and the driver’s glaring at her through the window, already too tired to bus a kid to camp. Mal picks up her bag with her free hand.

“You getting in?” Asks the cabbie. 

Mal nods. “Thanks,” she says. She tucks the takeout menu in her pocket, and takes her seat in the back of the cab, watching the world she knows disappear through the back window.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! <3


End file.
